Teenage Kicks
by Ultrawoman
Summary: Part of poestheblackcat's Sticky Little Fingers 'verse. Several of the little Leverage kids are now all grown up (read: teenagers). Prepare for angst, romance, drama, and hormones. Michael/Irene, and other stuff, I guess, maybe. Was going to be a one-shot, but apparently the people wanted more!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This was meant to be a one-shot, and yet I have a feeling its going to need more. My beta certainly thinks so... Opinions please? As per the summary, this story is set in the future of the 'Sticky Little Fingers' 'verse, created by poestheblackcat. Don't blame me, blame her! :P**

_**Disclaimer: All recognisable characters from Leverage belong to John Rogers, Chris Downey, Dean Devlin, and other folks that aren't me. All recognisable characters from 'Stick Little Fingers' 'verse belong to poestheblackcat, but she did give me permission to play with them ;)**_

Sixteen year old Irene Ford was her mother's daughter. You could tell by the fact the American accent she ought to have almost always contained a distinctly English lilt, most especially when she was being snotty or mad about something. She lost her mind over any little thing and made sure you knew it in the most theatrical way possible. It was why Michael wasn't overly surprised when he was forced to duck a plate she threw his way during their latest 'heated discussion'.

Thankfully, Michael Roberts-Spencer, age seventeen, was his father's son. This meant that whilst he had a tendency towards violence when riled, he would never, _ever_ lay a hand on a woman that way. Of course, being Eliot's boy also meant he had a temper that worked like a pan of water on the stove. It started to warm, simmered fiercely under the lid, and would eventually blow if some other outlet for the white-hot anger could not be found...

"You are the most impossible, interfering, ridiculous young man I ever met!" Irene declared, tossing another piece of her father's crockery for good measure.

Michael bit his lip for fear of what he might say and dodged to the side, his lightning reflexes serving him well as the second plate shattered against the door like its twin.

"Damnit, Irene!" he cursed her because he just couldn't help it when he felt pieces of china ghost down his back - that had been too close. "What is your problem?" he asked her out-right as she flung herself around to face the opposite wall. "The guy is an asshole, so I hit him."

"He wasn't yours to hit," she declared, the argument they'd been having for the last ten minutes running full circle for at least the third time.

They'd always been like this really, heated debates and petty fights, punctuated by genuine acts of caring. He baked what she asked for more often than he didn't. She was first to help him out with homework when he couldn't quite bend his mind around it, or to fetch the Advil when he got in another fight. Over the years, things just got a little more twisted, Michael supposed. His Dad would mutter about 'hormones and high school' whenever he tried to explain why he and Irene fought so much. He didn't think much what _her_ parents thought about it.

Fact of the matter was, there were no adults here right now, no kids either, just two teenagers with too many feelings and not enough good sense apparently. This was all going to end one of two ways, anybody with eyes could see it, but teens were as blind as the next person sometimes, no matter how smart they thought they were.

"Irene," Michael sighed tiredly, daring to approach Uncle Nate's kitchen area, now she seemed to be done pitching plates at his head. "Look, Joey Taylor is not a good guy. I know you thought he was and that you were so smart gettin' the quarterback to ask you to Homecoming and all..."

"He's a senior!" she wailed then, practically with the back of her hand to her forehead like a true tragic heroine in some play her mother would love. "I was the only Sophomore asked to attend by a Senior. I was setting a new social standard amongst my peers, and you! You ruined everything!" she said, turning to Michael with a glare no less than deadly.

Michael didn't flinch. He never did.

"I'm gonna say this again, real slow, so even you understand," he told her in a low voice, as up in her personal space as she was in his, despite the kitchen counter between them. "He didn't wanna date you. He was just trying to come off like your perfect dream date boyfriend type, Irene. He wanted to get you in the back of his car and... and use you," he told her, polite as he could, because Eliot had drilled into him that F words were not used in front of ladies, unless you were dying - Michael knew he meant literally too.

Irene didn't want to believe him, and Michael couldn't blame her for that, but it didn't make it any the less true. He heard it all in the locker room, and given Joey's reputation, he believed it too. There was no way in hell he was letting anybody mess with Irene, no way, no how. It was his job to protect her. So he had told that son of a bitch good and plain what he thought of him, by almost putting his fist clean through Joey's head.

Irene found out and pretty much hit the ceiling, followed by all four walls, one after the other. She drove out of school like a bat out of hell and Michael followed purely on instinct. He wanted to make sure she wasn't too upset. Moreover, he wanted to make sure she didn't do anything stupid. Right now, here in this moment, he wanted something else entirely and the shock of it stuck him to the spot the moment his eyes drifted to her lips and the thought ran unbidden through his head. 'What the...?'

"Michael," her voice had dropped an octave and she knew it, but even Irene couldn't have explained why. "You... you really did that for me? I mean... I know you care about me, but I didn't..."

It was as far as she got. The second brown eyes met sparkling blue, lips followed in a kiss that had been seven years in the making. Not that either of them realised it, of course. At nine and ten, they couldn't possibly have known this was where they were headed, and yet here they were, both scrambling to get closer and failing miserably with a kitchen counter in the way.

As inelegant as it was, Irene was all but clambering over the obstacle between them by now, and Michael was all too keen to help, pretty much lifting her up and over into his arms. They were oblivious to the world around them, lost in a passion that they hadn't ever known before. They could hate each other on any given day of the week, and yet kind of love each other at the same time. Maybe that was what this was, maybe it was just a rebound on her part, and anger finding a new outlet in his case. It didn't matter, at least not until the front door swung open and they realised they were no longer alone.

"What on Earth...?!"

Sophie's shocked voice had Michael and Irene leaping a mile apart inside of a second.

All mussed up hair and bruised lips after such a moment together, neither really had enough breath to speak, even if they had known what to say. They didn't.

"Soph?" Eliot called as he hurried down from upstairs.

Clearly both parents had been called when their kids' cars screeched out of the parking lot one behind the other a half hour earlier. Having checked their respective apartments, they had now found their offspring, though not in quite the condition they had expected.

"I can explain the plates, Mummy," said Irene, recovering first, as she moved towards her mother.

Eliot looked down, even though he had already recognised the very distinctive crunch underfoot. Sophie was still staring at her daughter and Michael, back and forth until she felt dizzy.

"Uh-huh," the hitter nodded, trying and failing to hide a smirk. "I think maybe me and my son need to have a conversation, somewhere else," he said then, gesturing for Michael to get his butt over to the door right about now.

The boy practically ran past Irene and Sophie, happy enough to escape. The grifter turned to watch him go and then looked to Eliot who still hovered in the doorway.

"C'mon. You didn't see this comin'?" he checked, shaking his head when Sophie continued to look completely bewildered. "Sophie, sweetheart, this has been on the cards a loooong time," he told her definitely.

"How did you even...?" she took a step out of the door when he moved away and she felt as if she were not done with him yet.

Eliot looked back at her from the hallway and shrugged his shoulders.

"Michael don't wear lipstick," he shook his head once again. "And Irene, she likes a very distinctive shade."

Sophie suddenly seemed to realise her mouth was hanging open as she glanced at herself in the mirror. She closed it fast and then turned to face her daughter. Irene shifted her feet amongst the broken crockery and raised a smile that was only visible when she had quite finished wiping off her remaining lipstick on the back of her hand.

For perhaps the first time in their lives, neither of the Ford women had a clue what to say.

_To Be Continued ?_


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, I'm continuing this for the folks that asked... mostly poestheblackcat, since she seems to trust me with her 'verse. I wish I had as much faith in myself as she does! So, here comes chapter 2 of... however many?! Please tell me if its good, bad, whatever. Feedback means a very lot.**

_**(For disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)**_

Chapter 2

Michael wasn't sure what to think when he got back up to the apartment he shared with his Dad. Eliot was going to be up those stairs any second, probably going to ask questions about what happened today, and not just in regards to the fight in the locker room either. There would be more interest from all concerned in what happened between Michael and Irene, though the honest truth was, he didn't have an explanation for that one.

Eliot walked in then, pushed the door closed with a thud. Michael thought about high-tailing it to his room but decided against it. He had to be a man and face up to the consequences of his actions. Besides, Dad would only follow him, no matter where he ran to.

"So, you wanna talk to me about what happened today?" asked Eliot, arms folded across his chest as Michael turned around and faced him.

"Not much to tell," he shrugged, hands in his pockets.

"Really?" his father tried not to smirk as he saw altogether too much of himself as a teenager stood in front of him. "So, you didn't get into a fight with Joey something-or-other," he waved his hand in a vague gesture then, the name already forgotten in its unimportance.

"Wasn't really a fight," Michael told him, fighting a smile himself by now. "Only two hits - me hitting him, him hitting the floor."

"Thank you, Emilio Estevez," Eliot rolled his eyes.

"That movie is a classic" his son pointed out as he sat down on the couch with a thump, arms stretched over his head. "I don't know what the big deal is."

"Oh, you don't?" asked Eliot, not believing that for a second.

He knew something like this was coming, he'd seen the signs when even Sophie had been oblivious. Of course, the grifter often got caught up in the world she wished existed rather than the one that was. The one where she was still a duchess and her daughter was going to be the equivalent to the Queen of Sheba. Building that girl up was going to ruin her, Eliot always thought so, and yet Irene retained a caring heart through it all. Apparently she couldn't help herself where a knight in shining armour was concerned either. Today's events had been on the cards for a while, the hitter knew that, because Michael was a little too much like Eliot himself, and Irene was that type of girl that presented just enough of a challenge to be worth it.

"C'mon, son, don't pull that crap with me," said Eliot as he sat down beside Michael, jostling his arm to get his attention. "You hit this guy 'cause he asked Irene to Homecoming, right?"

"I hit the guy 'cause he didn't want to take her to Homecoming so much as he wanted to... to use her," he said with a look.

Eliot didn't so much mind him speaking plainly when they were alone at home, but somehow he still couldn't do it, not when he was talking about Irene. Such words just stuck in his throat and made him feel physically sick.

"Then I'm glad you hit him," growled Eliot, his own fists curling up at the very idea of some scumbag taking advantage of one of his nieces. "Women should be treated with respect. I taught you that, and his folks should've taught him the same."

Michael was glad to get the reaction he expected from Eliot where Joey was concerned. Of course, the fact still remained that he and Irene had been making out when their parents walked in. That was the part he wasn't so sure about. As much as his Dad loved him, Michael knew Eliot had deep love for all his nieces and nephews too. It was like a conflict of interest for him to be connected to both sides of this thing, whatever the hell it was. Even Michael wasn't sure yet what that kiss had really meant, or the ones before that hadn't been half so intense.

"Does that mean you're not mad about the other thing either?" he asked, not even looking at him, rather staring at the blank TV screen in front of them.

"You mean the part where you ended up wearing Irene's lipstick... _again_," smirked Eliot, though he was honestly trying not to.

"It's not like we're real cousins, by blood or anything," replied Michael. "Honestly? I don't even know why it happened, not before nor today."

"Michael, I thought we covered all this when you started High School," his father shifted uncomfortably - he knew no son of his could be that naive about the birds and the bees.

"I know why men wanna get with women, Dad," Michael huffed. "I just... I don't know when I started looking at Irene and seeing... a woman."

* * *

Sophie didn't like turning to drink in a crisis. It was what Nate still did, more so out of force of habit than anything else, but she had always done her best not to follow suit. Today she was practically vibrating with the longing for alcohol, anything to calm her nerves after the realisation that her daughter and Eliot's son might be developing some sort of romantic relationship.

"How long have you and Michael been... close?" she asked carefully, circling the couch on which Irene was now sat, looking suitably awkward.

"We've always been close," she replied easily, "Since he first came here."

"You know that's not what I mean, Irene" Sophie told her with evident frustration as she leaned over the back of the couch and made her daughter look at her. "This isn't just something to be brushed under the carpet! Your father is going to lose his bloody mind over this!"

Irene shifted uncomfortably a moment and then painted on a smile.

"We could not tell him," she suggested, looking altogether like a younger reflection of a certain Ms Deveraux in that moment.

"I lie for a living, Irene, but I do not lie to your father," she reminded her stiffly, the very words from her lips an untruth if she were completely honest.

This was ridiculous, insane, unprecedented. Sophie didn't have the correct words to describe what a mess this was going to make of their carefully constructed team/family dynamic. The children were all raised like cousins, calling the other adults Aunt and Uncle. It had all worked out just fine until Eliot suddenly found himself with a ten year old son to bring up alone. The other kids saw another play-mate, but clearly Irene was different, especially now the pair of them were teenagers, all full of hormones and urges.

"Of all the boys in all the world, Irene," said Sophie tiredly as she walked around and sat down heavily on the couch beside her. "You had to choose Michael?"

"If it's any consolation, the first time he kissed me, I slapped him," she explained. "The second time, I slapped him and then he kissed me."

"This was the third time?" asked her mother, primed ready to wince if the number was actually significantly higher.

"I thought a lady didn't kiss and tell?" asked Irene in all innocence, or so it appeared at first.

"There are loopholes for mothers," she was swiftly told, the look in Sophie's eyes proving she meant business here. "Humour me."

"It was more than the third time," she confirmed, but it seemed to be all she was willing to share.

Sophie was less surprised by all the physical contact between the teens and more so by the fact Irene was blushing. Nothing ever phased her, nothing ever seemed to cause her embarrassment. This did. This was even more serious than they thought.

"So, after the first time it happened, I kinda thought it was a mistake. Y'know like a heat of the moment thing, but Irene said she never felt that way before when a guy kissed her, so maybe it really was something real with Michael. Still, when Joey asked her to Homecoming, even though she and Michael had kissed like at least seven times by then, she totally said yes, just because he's a Senior. Now Michael has hit Joey, so that has to mean he likes Irene way more than we thought. I know Uncle Eliot hits people that mess with any of us, and Michael would to, but this was totally different. I mean, Irene said..."

* * *

Parker felt like her head was about to explode and Hardison wasn't far behind. As if having five kids wasn't enough to drive sane people crazy (and Parker was pretty crazy to begin with), having them all talking at once about things that made little to no sense, that was worse. All the way from the High School, Carrie had been talking. She could talk faster than Irene when she had a good tale to tell, and this one was a doozy, all about Michael supposedly beating up a boy for something he said about Irene. Frankie kept on interrupting, trying to tell his own 'interesting' tales from Junior High, but as Parker pointed out at least six times already;

"Mommy only has one pair of ears!"

The declaration was becoming louder each time she said it, whilst dragging her brood up the stairs to their apartment. Hardison following along at the back, torn between stopping to figure out why the elevator was broken (again!) and helping his wife with the babbling bunch of kids.

"Daddy?" asked Flo, lagging behind with her twin brother. "Are Irene and Michael gonna get married?"

"Excuse you?" the hacker checked. "Honey, why'd you even ask that?"

"They like kissing!" Gil explained, screwing his face up in the way seven year old boys did when such closeness to girls were mentioned - they have cooties you know, unless they're your sisters.

Flo giggled at her brother's words and funny face, before starting to sing.

"Michael and Irene sitting in a tree," she began, with Gil joining in then, and Ruby on harmonies from half way up the next flight of stairs. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

Nate appeared as the second chorus started up, finding the din aggravating but the song highly amusing, at least at first. When he realised the names of the people who were apparently sitting in the tree, he became less enamoured with the ditty.

"What...?!" he asked Hardison, the rest of the words clearly unspeakable in front of young ears.

"You should really go talk to Sophie," the hacker smiled nervously, backing away up the stairs behind his kids and trying desperately to shush them as he went.

Nate all but ran up to his own apartment, flinging open the door. Red-faced and furious, he stopped short of yelling as a plate whipped past his head and shattered onto the floor, joining its fallen brethren. Nate looked up into the kitchen area and saw Sophie with her hand over her mouth, clearly shocked at what she had just done. In an indignant voice Nate would expect more from his teenage daughter than his wife, Sophie explained then;

"The first two were Irene!"

_To Be Continued..._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: What am I doing with this story?! Oh well, people seem to like it, especially poesie (poestheblackcat), and it's her 'verse, so I guess I'll keep going... ;)**

_**(For disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)**_

Chapter 3

Irene Ford could hear the yelling from her room. She didn't want to hear but she could. Daddy was mad, which she ought to have expected, since he had just found out from other sources that she and Michael had gotten closer. Irene never meant for it to happen, not this time, not last time, not any time really. Usually she was so in control of things, just like her parents. Things just didn't happen unless she planned them and made it so. Michael was the one thing in her life she had absolutely no control over, and it drove her crazy whilst at the same time thrilling her in the best of ways.

Maybe it was a little twisted, on reflection. Michael had eyes like Uncle Eliot and some of his mannerisms too. He certainly had his temper and need to punch people that messed with those he loved. At the same time, Irene realised, there were things she really liked about Michael that had nothing to do with his father at all.

Michael treated the other kids as if they were little adults, right down to Flo & Gil, and Irene was his equal in all things. He never thought less of her because she was female, and never complained or tried to shirk his responsibilities in the team/family. He was one of the nicest guys she ever met, laid back and sweet even. At the same time, he was willing to knock another guy into next Thursday for the sake of her honour, and had an ability to kiss the like of which Irene had never known in her limited experience of dating.

"_I'll kill him!"_

Nate's voice boomed from the living area and Irene physically winced. She closed her eyes tight shut, her hands balling into fists. She wasn't going to cry and she wasn't going to run out there screaming her head off like a child. She would come up with a plan, she would make it okay. If there was one thing she had learnt being brought up by the greatest grifter and mastermind of all time, it was how to get what she wanted, no matter how tough. She and Michael had to be together somehow, without ruining the lives of everyone else they cared about. Keeping it a secret whilst they figured out how they felt hadn't worked at all. It was becoming increasingly clear that they liked each other way too much to hide it, and now everyone in their non-blood family knew the truth.

"_Nate, don't!"_

"_Let me go, Sophie!"_

Irene put her hands over her ears and started to sing to herself. She got all of two lines out before the tears came, and sobs interrupted a sweet melody. Daddy couldn't really hurt Michael. Uncle Eliot wouldn't let it happen, but she did hate that he would even consider such a thing. Hated it as much as she loved Michael, and both emotions were as terrifying to her as each other right now.

* * *

Eliot had been half-expecting the fist against his door. Sophie took Michael and Irene's teenage romance with shock, but Nate, oh he was going to take it with a bucket load of anger. Keeping his countenance as best he could, Eliot ordered Michael into his room and to stay there. The look on his face said no arguments permitted, and so the teen went, however grudgingly.

The hitter went for the door then, biting down his natural response to the things Nate was already yelling. They were friends, practically brothers these days. They risked their lives for each other, helped raise each others kids. No matter how tempting it was to knock this guy on his butt, Eliot was not going to do it. He was a better man than that these days, he'd made sure of that.

"Nate, calm the hell down," he ordered just the moment the door was open.

"Where is he?!" the older man yelled as he made to barge through the door, bouncing off Eliot's chest muscles as they both knew he would.

"My son is in his room, and you are not coming in here until you calm. the hell. down!" he repeated, arms folded across his chest.

There was a look in Eliot's eyes that Nate only noticed in that moment. He never once thought it would be aimed at him, but then the mastermind had never dared to make threats against his friend's son before. They usually protected each other, the whole team and all the kids. Turning on each other was the most dangerous thing. Only Nate's getting so mad in the direction of Michael could earn him such a genuine death glare from his team-mate and friend.

"Nate, please," Sophie urged him, pulling on his arm. "This isn't the way. We can talk about this, like reasonable adults," she insisted, tears streaming down her face even now.

She didn't cry much, not genuinely, and Eliot hated to see it. Her and Parker were the only two women in his life that he loved this way. Not exactly like sisters because there was too much flirting (no matter how harmless) for that to hold true. Still, it was more than friends, a deeper bond than he had with any woman he ever might've loved or even married. Unfortunately for Sophie, and for Nate, and any other member of this family they had built, blood was still thicker than water sometimes. Michael had to come top of Eliot's list, no matter what.

"You expect me to calm down?" asked Nate, voice low and dangerous enough to scare anyone, except for Eliot. "How exactly am I supposed to be calm when your son violated my daughter?!"

The last three words were aimed over Eliot's shoulder into the apartment so Michael heard. The fact the kid didn't come flying out of his room to defend himself only proved how much respect he had for his father's wishes, but even the hitter knew he could only hold his temper so long. Michael was his son after all. No matter what orders you're given, as a soldier, a team member, a friend, a son, sometimes you just can't help it.

"I know you got this Catholic thing buried deep, Nate, but my Momma was a God fearing woman too, and where I come from kissing ain't the same as what you're talking about," said Eliot as calmly as he could. "Besides, it's not like Michael is the only one doing what they were doing. I love Irene to death, you know that, but she ain't an angel, Nate."

"Don't you dare!" the mastermind replied, getting in his face. "Don't you dare imply that my daughter would want to be anywhere near your bastard son!"

"Dad, no!" Michael came rushing then, not to save himself but to try to hold Eliot back.

He hated hearing those things being implied about himself, but more than that he knew his father would only take so much before he lost it. Though he was not physically strong enough to stop him, Michael did hope that his words would be enough, his passionate plea that nobody kill anybody else.

"Please, stop!" Sophie was begging for peace just as hard. "We don't need to do this. They're just kids, Nate. They like each other, it's not the end of the world."

Eliot couldn't speak himself. He allowed Michael to keep a hold on his arm, keeping him from launching at Nate. Still, both men had eyes locked on the others gaze and they weren't moving any time soon.

This could be it. This might just be the point where the carefully constructed dynamic of the team that had become a family all came crashing down around their ears like a house of cards. It had been twenty years in the making, and now it could be gone in a second. It would be heart breaking for all concerned, but Nate and Eliot felt nothing in this moment but anger at each other.

"You're wrong."

It was Irene's voice that cut through the moment like a hot knife through butter. All attention turned to her, tear-stained and shaking as she was. She looked around the faces of four people she loved most in the world and swallowed hard before she could say anymore.

"We're not kids anymore, and nothing any of you say or do can change what I feel or what Michael feels," she said, tilting her chin, trying to be brave.

It terrified her. Losing her parents good opinion or that of Uncle Eliot. As much a she loved all of her family, there was a special bond between her and the hitter. She couldn't explain it, she never did try, and she didn't wonder too much on if it might be part of the reason what she and Michael had gotten so close so easily. She just knew in this moment that she had to be strong and stand up for herself, since all anyone else seemed interested in was tearing lumps out of one another.

"You're right," Nate nodded. "I can't change what you feel," he said too reasonably, letting Eliot know before anyone else realised it that the next thing out of the mastermind's mouth would be something wholly _un_reasonable. "But I can make sure _you_ never, ever get anywhere close to my daughter again," he told Michael, jabbing a finger in his direction.

The next moment, he was bundling Irene back up the stairs with Sophie chasing behind. Eliot looked up through the stairwell, yelling for his so-called friend not to be such an idiot. He stopped when he realised Michael was about to run after the Ford family himself.

"No, son. No, let 'em go" he told him, forcing him back into the apartment.

"He can't do that, Dad! He can't treat Irene that way, and he sure as hell can't keep us apart!" Michael insisted loudly.

"I know. I know!" Eliot assured him he understood as he fought to get his son to calm down a minute and listen. "It's gonna be fine. I'm not gonna let Nathan Ford screw everything up, not for this whole messed up family of ours, and not for you and Irene," he insisted. "But right now, you gotta let them be, okay?"

Michael didn't like it, in fact he hated it. He knew that he and Irene getting closer would upset the balance of this hybrid family they had all built, of course he did, but this was worse than even he had imagined. Uncle Nate was supposed to love him too, was supposed to trust him, and yet his eyes had glowed with angry fire, as close to hate as Michael had ever seen aimed at himself. It hurt a lot to see him turn that way, more than he ever would've expected.

Pulling out of his father's grasp, Michael went back to his room and slammed the door so hard the whole apartment shook. Eliot ran a hand over his face and back through his hair, trying to find that calm centre that never quite came easy, even after all these years. This was one unholy mess, that much was obvious. Though he swore to Michael he would make sure it all turned out okay in the end, he knew that might just prove to be the one promise to his son he couldn't really keep.

_To Be Continued..._


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Did I lose some readers by making Nate an ass? Hmm... oops? Trust me, there is method to my madness. Nate has his reasons, which will be explained, and everything will get fixed, just give me time ;) Much appreciation for the reviews that I did get, always - thank you so much, peops!**

_**(For disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)**_

Chapter 4

Parker had finely tuned hearing, but honestly, she didn't really need it today. Everybody was just yelling loud enough to wake the dead, never mind be heard by someone in the next apartment. Of course, Parker hoped that Nate and Sophie and Eliot wouldn't actually go waking any dead people with their yelling, because that might be kind of gross and unhelpful. Anyway, when she finally got the kids settled between homework and the TV, she pulled Hardison into the bedroom to talk about the situation with the rest of the team.

"What are we going to do?" she asked him in a harsh whisper.

"I don't know, mama" her husband replied "but I ain't gettin' caught up between Nate and Eliot in all o' this. You wanna be a widow already?" he asked her a little too seriously.

"They're not going to kill you, or each other," she rolled her eyes, before considering it. "They wouldn't, would they?"

The worrying thing was that just as she said this, a deathly silence seemed to fall over the building. No longer could she hear Eliot trying to get Michael out of his room, or Nate and Sophie's muffled argument over the Irene situation. It was way too quiet, and that bothered Parker and Hardison more than the noise.

The bedroom door handle rattled then, and in walked Ruby with the littlest ones on her heels. The three looked way too sad for ten and seven year olds, especially kids borne of Parker and Hardison.

"Where are Uncle Nate and Aunt Sophie taking Irene?" asked Ruby in all innocence.

"Are they going far away?" Gil wanted to know.

"They didn't even say goodbye. They always say goodbye," Flo added so sadly that it made Parker want to cry immediately.

"This ain't good," said Hardison in a low voice to his wife, before painting on a smile.

"I'm sure it'll all be good. They probably just went to the store or somethin'," he told his little ones, ushering them back out into the living room.

The sooner he got them in front of the TV with a stream of never ending cartoons the better they would feel. Then they could worry about the real problem here. Parker was already thinking about it, about where they went from here. She loved her real family, her husband and her five babies, but she still looked upon the team as her family too. She would not have them broken up over a stupid kiss, she just would not.

Hardison wasn't sure what was happening when his wife suddenly came barrelling out of the bedroom, right through the apartment to the front door.

"Mom? Are you okay?" asked Carrie worriedly.

"Can I go wherever you're going?" Frankie tagged on, off his seat already at the prospect.

At twelve and three quarters, he ought to be a little more grown up perhaps, but he took after his Mom and was still a bouncing ball of energy even now. Somehow nobody really believed he would ever change, even when he reached thirty, nevermind thirteen.

"Mommy has to go see Uncle Eliot," she called over her shoulder and was then gone before another word could be spoken.

There was just no way in hell Parker was going to stand by and watch the only decent family she had ever known fall apart. No way! She couldn't talk to Nate and Sophie like she wanted to, at least not right now, so she would talk to Eliot. He was the one that took care of them all, that ensured nobody had a reason to hurt or cry. Parker needed that right now, needed to know he could fix this situation as well as he fixed so many others over the years. Sure, you couldn't really solve this particular crisis with hitting, but Eliot did have other skills, despite what the world at large believed.

Parker didn't even bother to knock on Eliot's door. She was pretty sure he'd tell her to get lost or something because he'd be in one of his bad moods. Besides, it was a while since she picked a lock just for kicks... and oh look, she still had the mad skillz!

"Hey, Eliot," she said casually enough as she strolled into his apartment.

"What's goin' on, Parker?" he asked as he came out of the kitchen drying his hands, wincing a little at the loud thump-thump sound from Michael's room.

The thief made a face when she realised what it was and how it wasn't going away. What was it with teenagers and playing their music so loud when they were sad or angry? She didn't get it, and was sure she never would. What was wrong with throwing yourself off a building or stealing a car or whatever? She figured it wasn't worth asking right now.

"Things got bad, huh?" she said instead, blowing her bangs off her forehead. "Nate and Sophie just put Irene in the car and drove off. The kids saw it," she explained. "Plus we heard all the yelling..."

"I dunno what you want me to say, sweetheart," Eliot shook his head, perching on the arm of the couch and throwing the dishtowel over his shoulder. "Nate just can't get it through his thick skull that you don't exactly pick who you love, not at any age."

"You really think they're in love?" asked Parker with almost comically wide eyes.

She hadn't considered that. She understood that teenagers liked to make out and stuff, but they weren't all in love. It was hormones and pheromones and other sciencey sounding stuff. Love was a whole other thing, and whilst she was sure all the kids loved each other, it hadn't occurred to her once, not even after the talk of kissing, that Irene and Michael would be _in_ love.

"At sixteen and seventeen? It's always love," Eliot told her with a strange smile that Parker didn't understand, but then he never really expected her too. "I dunno if they're in this for the long haul or not," the hitter admitted then. "All I do know is, Nate is goin' about this all the wrong way," she explained. "You know what Irene is like. Too much like her Momma to stand there and take what he's throwin' at her. If she really wants to be with Michael, she's gonna find a way. They both will."

"He is as stubborn as you are," Parker considered. "And Irene is soooo much like Sophie sometimes... Hey, you and Sophie don't have those feelings too, right?" she checked with a frown.

"Parker..." Eliot growled some in response and she knew to let it go.

It wasn't why she was here anyway. Honestly, she didn't know exactly why she was here, except she thought somehow Eliot would fix her extended family that seemed to be coming apart little by little. She couldn't stand that.

"This isn't going to be an easy fix thing, is it? Not even for you?" she sighed sadly.

Sometimes when Eliot looked at her, even now, even as a married mother of five, he saw a little girl staring at him. She was sticking out her lip like a baby and looked so lost. Eliot felt awful. He thought about how he was hurting here, how awkward this situation was for him. He thought about Nate being mad, Sophie being dramatic, poor Irene and Michael being dragged apart. He never once considered Parker or Hardison and their clan of crazy adorable kids.

"C'mere," he urged her into his arms and hugged her tight, kissing the top of her head. "We'll figure it out, darlin'. We always do. Ain't nobody messin' up this weird-ass family we took so long putting together," he assured her, eliciting a giggle from his pseudo-sister.

Next door in his room, Michael was oblivious to his Aunt Parker visiting. He had his eyes closed and his ears full of pounding music. It wasn't really helping since his mind was still firmly on Irene and Uncle Nate and the injustice of it all. At least this was all he could focus on until he heard a knocking on his window... which was not at all on the ground floor!

"What the...? F-Bomb?!" Michael leapt up from the bed and pushed to open the window through which he could see Frankie literally hanging outside.

Yes, he still used the same nickname he had given the kid years ago. Frankie liked it and a few of his friends in school had even picked up on the name. Now of course the kid understood the other meaning of it, and at twelve-nearly-thirteen liked it even more! Of course, his name really wasn't the important factor right now. Michael was more concerned with the fact he was pretty much hanging from the window frame by his finger tips, a la Aunt Parker.

"Are you crazy?" he asked as he reached outside to help pull his friend inside, taking a moment to marvel at how scary the drop to the ground was - Frankie seemed unphased.

"Nope, not crazy," the younger boy assured him. "Dad gave us all the test."

Michael shook his head at that, closed the window and moved to turn the stereo down some just so they wouldn't need to yell to be heard.

"I know you only wanna help, F, but I'm kinda not good company right now, man," he told him, sitting down on the bed with a thud, his head in his hands.

"It's about Irene, right?" Frankie checked as he cast an eye over all the items on Michael's bookcase, fingers itching to pocket things that weren't his own - he fought it. "There is so much yelling about you two. I don't get it."

"You don't get the yelling?" Michael checked, looking up at him. "Join the party."

"It's not that. I don't get why you'd wanna kiss Irene!" said Frankie definitely. "I mean, seriously? She's... well, she's Irene!" he said again, as if that were explanation enough.

Michael actually smiled at that. He couldn't help it. Frankie was so stupidly amusing sometimes... and he had very nearly gotten a scale model of an X-wing fighter into his pocket. The model's rightful owner took it back from Frankie's hand and replaced it on the shelf with a look.

"It's different for you, man," Michael explained. "First off, and I don't know why, but you didn't hit puberty yet, so the hot girl angle ain't gonna make sense," he shook his head. "And even if it did, you grew up with Irene from the day you were born. It's different for me. I got shoe-horned into this family at age ten, and as much as I love all of you guys, it's just... it's different," he shrugged, feeling dumb.

Boys didn't like to talk about feelings at the best of times, and Spencer men were particularly bad at it, so Eliot insisted. Better to man up and get over things fast, so Michael reckoned, but when it came to Irene, it just wasn't going to be that easy.

He loved her, that was the scary truth of it all. Loved her in a whole different way to how he loved the Hardison kids. They were great but they were family, like brothers and sisters in a weird way. Irene never had been, never could be. Micheal Roberts-Spencer was head over heels and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Man, he wanted to punch something right about now!

* * *

Irene Ford was not sulking, or rather she was but she refused to admit to such childish behaviour when she was in fact sixteen. She had been a little grown up since she was a baby, everybody knew it, and now she was sixteen going on forty five the vast majority of the time. It was situations like these that let her down, when nobody would let her get her own way. Then she pouted and whined, and reverted to a childish state much younger than her years. Such was the contradiction that was Irene Ford.

Daddy was taking her and Mummy away, and Irene was not happy about it. She said as much when she was told to get in the back of the car or else. She wanted to fight and scream and kick up a fuss. She had tried it, in fact, as well as pouting, crying, begging, manipulating in all kinds of ways. Unfortunately, it was her parents that had taught her every trick in the book, and therefore they were the only two people in the world that rarely, if ever, fell for any of these acts.

"It's just for a little while, sweetheart," said Sophie from the front passenger seat. "Daddy promised that much," she added in a less pleasant tone as she looked daggers at Nate.

He didn't answer, just kept his eyes on the road, his hands on the wheels, and his foot very firmly on the gas. They were going to stay with Aunt Maggie for a while, which Irene would usually love the idea of, but not right now. Daddy was looking for an ally in his argument, since Mummy refused to comply. He seemed to forget his ex-wife so often took Sophie's side in things, but even Irene was unaware of that.

What worried the teen most was never coming back, never being allowed to be with her wonderful cousins, aunt, uncles, and most of all her darling Michael who she had realised too late that she loved dearly in a way she woul never have imagined all those years ago when he first arrived in their lives.

Irene had a plan in play already. Alone she was good, but not good enough. Right now she was texting Carrie, which was permitted. If she contacted Michael she would be in trouble, but her cousin was fine, even Nate had to allow her that. She was asking Carrie to speak to Uncle Hardison and tell him what was happening, to beg for him to get the others together and form a plan. After all, who better to steal a person back to where she belonged than the world's greatest thieves and their families?

_To Be Continued..._


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: For the few people still reading this, I am continuing on. Many thanx to you for the reviewage :)**

_**(For disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)**_

Chapter 5

Carat Hardison was trying not to be too distracted by her cell phone, but it was tough. She and Irene had been texting back and forth for an hour now, arguing about the best way to fix things between their mixed up families. Uncle Nate was fuming over Irene and Michael, even though Carrie knew for sure (and just had it confirmed by Irene herself) that they'd done no more than shared a few kisses. Carrie got it, she really did. Michael would be a hottie to her too, she was sure, if he hadn't always been more like a big brother type than anything else to the Hardison kids as a group. They were unofficially his posse, at least that was what he called them when he had to take them out anywhere or baby-sit for the bunch. Carrie liked being a part of that posse, but she knew Irene was never counted in it. The two eldest members of their 'family' were always different with each other, and now it was clear why. They'd been falling in love from the start.

"Girl, you better not be trying to hack the White House again nor nothin'," said Hardison when he realised his daughter was once again engrossed by her cell. "I had enough trouble covering your tracks last time."

"It's fine, Dad, I swear," Carrie promised with a smile as bright as any her mother ever wore. "Nothing illegal happening here."

Somehow it made Hardison more worried that her activity were 100% legal and stated as such. That just wasn't like her. Maybe he should've figured she was texting with Irene, but from the way Parker told it when she got back from visiting Eliot, Nate had like as not taken his daughter's own cell away, before he locked her up in some dungeon somewhere, wearing a chastity belt. Hardison thought it was crazy, and so did Parker, but this wasn't their battle to get in the middle of, at least not yet.

Carrie told Irene in her latest text that they would have to be careful about all this. She wanted to help rescue her 'cousin' and reunite her with Michael, but it didn't seem like a great idea to involve the grown ups yet, not until they were sure what side everybody stood on.

"Come on, you two," said Parker then, getting the twins up off the couch.

Bleary eyed as they were, it wasn't hard to lead them off to bed, and their Dad suggested Ruby follow along too, since it was getting late. He got up to go through to Frankie's room. No doubt he was caught up in a computer game and hadn't even notice the late hour.

"I'll just be a few minutes, Dad," said Carrie with that same almost-dangerous smile.

"Okay..." Hardison let it go because it wasn't really worth the argument right now - maybe later, but not now, after everything.

* * *

The kids had been in bed for all of fifteen minutes. That was the optimum time for Mom and Dad to be distracted doing whatever it was they did after children were supposedly asleep, Carrie knew. Now was the perfect time to sneak out of her room and head down the hall to gather her brothers and sisters together. She woke up Ruby first and ushered her along to the twins room before going after Frankie. Carrie nearly jumped out of her skin when she realised he was already up and by the door when she got there.

"I know something's going on with you and Irene," he whispered. "Are we making a plan to get her back?" he asked, eyes sparkling in the dim light.

"That's the idea," his sister told him, gesturing for him to follow her down to Flo & Gil's room.

All gathered on the rug by the twins bunk beds, the kids sat in a circle, each holding their own torch or night-light. They spoke in hushed tones, hoping rather than believing their ninja-like mother wouldn't hear and come investigating.

"Uncle Nate has taken Aunt Sophie and Irene away to Aunt Maggie's house," Carrie explained, "which would be fine, except he's talking about them maybe never coming back."

"Just because she kissed Michael?" asked Frankie.

"I thought Michael kissed her?" said Ruby softly.

"Kissing is yucky!"

"Not helping, Gil!" Carrie told him.

Flo gave her brother a shove and giggled behind her hand when he went sprawling. "The fact is Irene and Michael are pretty much in love," the eldest continued, "like our parents are in love, like Aunt Sophie and Uncle Nate are supposed to be in love," she explained as best she could until everyone understood the severity of the situation.

"I know that, we all do," Frankie told her, rolling his eyes dramatically, "but what can we do about it?"

"Plenty," his older sister said definitely. "Look at the skills we have between us! I know we're down a grifter, but between the five of us, plus Michael, there must be a way for us to steal Irene back," she said with determination, smacking one fist into the opposite hand.

"We'll just get into trouble" said Ruby worriedly. "Irene will be okay, she's always okay, and Uncle Eliot will help fix everything, right?"

"Usually it would all be fine," Carrie told her little sister, before looking around the whole group, "but this is a big deal, you guys."

"A very big deal," said Frankie with a nod of his head, just before the light came on over head.

"Oh, you got that right."

The little ones dove for cover from the brightness and from their father who just caught them in the act, whilst Carrie panicked, trying to think of what to say.

"Hey, Dad," said Frankie, suddenly on his feet. "We were just..."

"You was just busted, that's what you was!" said Hardison, folding his arms across his chest.

So much for leaving this to deal with later. Seemed to him he was going to have to do some dealing right now, before his kids got themselves in a whole heap of trouble!

* * *

Nate and Sophie had been in bed at least fifteen minutes, when Irene crept out of her room. Not that it was _her_ room as such, just the spare one she was sleeping in at Aunt Maggie's house. They shouldn't be here, they should be in their own apartment with all their friends and family close by. Not that Irene minded coming to visit. She loved her aunt as much as she loved anyone, but they were here for all the wrong reasons and even Maggie herself wasn't aware of them.

"Hello, Irene," she greeted her 'niece' as the girl padded into her office. "Can't sleep, huh?"

"I didn't really try," she admitted, pulling awkwardly at her silk pajamas. "I need to talk to you about something."

Maggie frowned at the sound of those words. It wasn't that she didn't get along with Irene. On the contrary, she loved her as she loved all the children the Leverage crew had produced. She was never once jealous that Nate had made a new family with Sophie. They had both moved on and it was for the best, though perhaps it might've been nice to have another husband and child of her own... It wasn't the issue right now and she pushed it from her mind.

"If you need to talk to me, honey, you knew I'll listen," said Maggie kindly as she took off her glasses and laid them on the desk. "I'm just a little surprised that whatever's worrying you, well... wouldn't you usually talk to your Mom?"

Irene perched herself on the nearby ottoman, crossing her legs and pushing her dark curls back over her shoulder. She was just so like Sophie sometimes. It was very strange that she should turn to anyone but darling Mummy and Daddy with any problem she might have.

"Daddy lied to you," she sighed. "About why we're here."

"Oh," Maggie slowly nodded once. "Well, I already knew that," she admitted, a small smile forming on her lips. "I know your Daddy well enough, I can spot a lie from him as easily as I can spot a counterfeit Monet, but I thought it was best not to ask what the real reason was, in case it had to do with a job..."

"It's not a job, it's me," said Irene sadly, looking down at her own hands in her lap. "I, er... Daddy found out that I have feelings for someone, a boy," she tried to explain, though she never once looked up at Aunt Maggie. "The truth is... it's Michael."

Irene finally brought her eyes up then and when she realised Aunt Maggie was smiling widely she was altogether confused.

"Well, I saw that coming too," she admitted, then off Irene's shocked expression she continued. "Sweetheart, you two were so obvious! Maybe it's just me because I'm more of an outsider, but I've been waiting for this to happen for a while now."

Irene wasn't used to being second guessed, any more than she had been ready to realise she was in a situation she couldn't control with Michael. Everything was getting out of hand lately, all this falling in love stuff, it kept pulling the rug out from under her finely-pedicured feet. She didn't like it much, but there was no way to change it apparently. Best then to adapt to the situation at hand, and at least be glad that Aunt Maggie seemed happy enough to hear about her and Michael, with no throwing of crockery and no complete mental breakdown as of yet!

"Daddy isn't happy," she lamented. "Mummy wasn't either, but I probably could have won her around. I've never heard Daddy say such vile things, not to Uncle Eliot or Michael," she said sadly, putting her face in her hands then as the tears came.

Maggie felt awful. Irene was so heartbroken and that was a feeling she well understood. At the same time, she was pretty sure she knew why Nate had lost his mind over this _frisson_ between his darling daughter and Michael. She was his only child, and his protective nature where Irene was concerned was absolute. All parents worried for their children but this was intense to the point of crazy at times, and Maggie knew why. He feared losing Irene in any way at all, more so than perhaps any other father might, because he had already lost once before. That pain was so much to bear, _too_ much to bear.

"It'll be okay, sweetheart," said Maggie with tears in her own eyes and a crack in her voice as much borne from memories of Sam as from Irene's own upset. "Honestly, it will," she promised, moving off the chair to hug her 'niece'. "Your father will calm down and this will all get figured out."

"I hope you're right," Irene sniffled as she looked up then, all red-rimmed eyes and blotchy skin - if she saw her reflection right now, she'd cry all the harder!

"I know I'm right," Maggie smiled slightly. "Now, you got to bed, get some sleep. In the morning, things won't look so bad."

Though Irene wasn't quite sure she believed a few hours sleep could make that much difference, she did as she was asked. Maggie watched her go and waited until she heard the soft thud off the bedroom door closing. She picked up her phone then and walked through the house, out of the back door onto the porch. There was no way she would risk any of the Ford family hearing this particular conversation. They thought they were sneaky, but she could be ever more so if she had to be.

Dialling the number was simple, waiting for someone to pick up was harder. After a couple too many rings a groggy voice told her to speak.

"Well, hello, Dr Sinclair," she smiled in spite of herself, more so than ever when she heard a warm chuckle of laughter in her ear.

"How you doin', Maggie?" asked Eliot as he fell back against the pillows of his bed, pushing his hair out of his face.

"Just fine," she assured him, "but I'm not the one playing Dad to Romeo, or Mom to a sobbing Juliet."

It was all she needed to say and she knew it. Eliot was much smarter than anyone outside a tight circle of friends could guess. Besides, her metaphor wasn't so obscure, easily unravelled even by a sleepy head past midnight.

"Nate brought them to you?" asked the hitter, apparently more than a little surprised.

"Yes, but without telling me the truth as to why," Maggie confirmed. "Irene just filled me in. The poor girl is heart-broken."

"Pretty sure Michael feels the same, if the pounding music and all is anything to go on," Eliot sighed. "I can't believe he lost it that way. Nate's usually a pretty smart guy, but the things he said, Maggie, I swear to God, he's lucky he could still walk when he left here."

"He has a temper," she recalled. "Nothing really violent or anything, but vicious, nasty sometimes," she shivered, perhaps from the chilly night air or maybe from a memory she'd rather forget. "He will calm down, and hopefully then he'll see sense."

"Between you and Sophie working on him, we might just stand a chance," Eliot noted. "For a regular person, you're a hell of a grifter, Maggie," he recalled with a grin.

"Stop it, you'll make me blush," she told him, laughing like the teen she hadn't been herself in along time, and it felt good, just like always when she talked to him. "Seriously though, Eliot, I will try my best, but I'm afraid if I push too hard Nate will just take Irene further away, where none of us will find her. There is a reason why you guys call him Mastermind, remember?"

Eliot knew she was right. As good as the team were, this wasn't a job, this was all of their lives hinging on an unstable recovering alcoholic. Besides, without Nate and Sophie, there was just the three adults, a bunch of kids, and all at long distance from the part-time grifter that was Maggie.

"I just keep thinkin'..." Eliot stopped mid-sentence and mid-thought when he heard a light knocking on his bedroom door. "Michael?" he called, even though it didn't sound like his distinctive knock, it sounded like... "Parker?"

"Hey," she grinned as she stepped into the room and flipped on the light, practically blinding Eliot who was not at all ready for it.

"What's going on?" asked Maggie in his ear.

Though she couldn't possibly have heard that question, it was Parker who answered it.

"Get up, get dressed!" she told Eliot, clapping her hands to hurry him along, and grinning wide as a Cheshire cat. "We're going to steal an Irene!"

_To Be Continued..._

**A/N2: So, the good news is there's lots of this fic still to come. The bad news is it ain't coming now. As with previous years, I'm taking December off from my WIPs to write Christmas fics, gift fics, exchange fics, etc. and my own Christmas time relaxtion. Just want to take this oppurtunity to wish everybody a Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays (whichever is appropriate to you) and assure you this story will be back in January 2013 :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Hey, look, I'm back! Does anyone care? Are y'all still interested in reading this? Let me know by way of reviewage please :)**

_**(For disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)**_

Chapter 6

"This ain't as simple as you think," Eliot told the assembled group of adults and kids, pushing his hair off his face in frustration. "You can't just go steal a person..."

"We done it before," Hardison reminded him.

"More than once," his wife quickly agreed, even as she pulled a sleepy Gil across her lap before he fell off the couch. "And this is stealing Irene from Maggie's house. How hard can it be? That woman is just adorable!" she laughed lightly, as she so often did when speaking of Nate's ex, and her oft-mentioned honesty and occasional naivity.

"Parker," the growl in Eliot's throat was familiar and non-scary, but he was getting frustrated and that wouldn't help.

"Guys, you know how much I'd love to just steal Irene right back here," said Michael then, standing up by his father, "but Dad's right. We can't just go steal her, that's crazy!"

"It's not so crazy," Carrie told him, getting up too, though she was still several inches shorter than her 'cousin'. "Irene _wants_ to be stolen, trust me. For some reason she is just totally in love with you. Besides, Uncle Nate is being a tool."

"Carat Hardison!" snapped Parker like a reflex, trying to simultaneously cover the ears of both her twins, and Ruby too.

"Well he is!" the teen girl insisted, even though she knew full well that wasn't a word she was meant to use so freely, especially in front of the little ones. "What is his problem with Irene and Michael being together? It's so not a big deal"

"We know that, baby girl," her father told her kindly, seeing how upset she was about it. "But Nate is Irene's father and I guess we can't just take her away from him..."

"He took her away from us, Aunt Sophie too," Michael argued.

His good sense was still telling him this plan was dumb and over the top, but at the same time, he really did want Irene back already. It was the craziest night, all of them sitting and standing around the Hardisons' living room, concocting some heist-type plan to steal Irene back from where Uncle Nate and Aunt Sophie had taken her. Still, what other options did they have?

"Look, Maggie said Nate didn't tell her the real reason for the visit," Elliot started to explain then. "Irene had to explain after. Maybe Nate's already startin' to realise he made a mistake?"

"Or maybe he just doesn't want to give Maggie too much information in case she does just exactly what she did and calls us," noted Hardison with a look. "This crazy, man, and you know it. You don't take a sixteen year old girl away from her home and family against her will jus' 'cause she kissed a guy. Not unless he old, psycho, or the bad kind o' criminal," he counted of on his fingers, "and Michael ain't none o' those."

They all knew he was right. Nate had done a really dumb thing, and whilst he might be realising that now, he could just as easily be planning to run further away. No-one was prepared to lose that branch of the family, and Michael was beginning to look more and more determined about not losing the woman he loved too. It was Parker that was first to make a proper decision.

"Okay," she said, standing up, with a seven year old under each arm. "If we're gonna do this, we're gonna need a plan," she said definitely. "Frankie, Ruby, take the twins, start pulling together snacks. I'll catch up with you in a minute," she told them. "Eliot, Hardison, Michael, we need screens on, boards live, all the stuff Nate would usually want if we were planning for a job."

"What about me, Mom?" asked Carrie curiously, even as the others started to do as they were told - after all, nobody messed with Parker in full-on Mom mode.

"You text Irene. Tell her we're making a plan and then we're coming for her," she said definitely, looking up at Eliot with a grin as their gazes met for a moment. "'Cause we'd be the cavalry."

* * *

Breakfast at Maggie Collins house was not exactly a happy occasion. It was as quiet as it might've been if she were alone as usual. Instead there were four people around her table, including her ex-husband, his new wife, and their daughter, though nobody was saying a word. There wasn't even a lot of eating going on, though cereals, toast, eggs, plus orange juice and coffee had all been provided. It seemed as if nobody was hungry and Maggie didn't doubt why.

Irene was miserable. Taken away from her family, her friends, and more than that the guy she loved. Sophie didn't look much happier to be here, and Maggie knew that had nothing to do with her. Despite being the first and second loves of Nathan Ford's life, the two woman got along so well, it even made the so-called mastermind himself uncomfortable. They were the right woman for their man at different times in his life, and neither had a problem with it. What they both seemed to take issue with right now was his handling of the Irene/Michael situation.

Of course, Maggie couldn't say anything. She wasn't even supposed to know the truth of why the Ford family was here, and she wouldn't tell. She could only hope that Eliot and the others could do something, anything, to make Nate see sense. She hoped it, but she didn't entirely believe.

Irene's cell vibrated on the table and she grabbed it up to check the screen. She already had a message from Carrie telling her they had a plan to come get her. The 'We'd be the cavalry' comment proved the grown ups were involved too. It was Uncle Eliot's go to phrase and Carrie's using it was practically blatant code for the fact everybody was working on getting her back. It made her smile, but not so much as this message which came from Michael. In it he apologised for all the crap that had happened since their latest kiss, and then promised her he was going to fix this whole thing.

It might've been okay, if Nate couldn't read his daughter like a book. The look on her face gave her away, not carefully schooled like it usually would be when she needed to hide something. Irene had let her guard slip just enough for her mastermind father to see the truth. Within a second, her phone was snatched from her grasp and flung against the wall where it shattered on impact.

Maggie reacted to the scraping of chair legs long before the smash, but still hadn't managed to get up or say a word before Nate stormed out, slamming the door. Irene ran the other way, similarly slamming into the room that was her own as long as she stayed here. Maggie looked from one direction to the other, and then her eyes settled on a defeated looking Sophie.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," the grifter admitted, her hands at her face. "I just... I don't know what to say to either of them."

Maggie watched Sophie scrape her fingers back through her hair, her face a mess of frown lines. She was usually so well-kempt and always in control. Of course things didn't always run smooth and there were times when she knew her friend must fall apart, but it never showed. Sophie was like a swan, elegantly gliding along, always so beautiful and smoothly sailing, whilst underneath, hidden from view, her legs were flailing around at a hundred miles an hour.

"Y'know, Irene told me why you're really here," said Maggie carefully, reaching out a hand to Sophie's elbow in what she hoped was a comforting gesture. "I wasn't exactly surprised."

"Really?" the grifter almost laughed though there was not a hint of humour in the sound. "I did not see this coming," she sighed. "Or perhaps I did but I didn't want to. I certainly never expected Nate to be this bad about it all. I mean, it's not ideal, I know that," she admitted. "We raised the kids like cousins, all of them, and... well, Michael's a fine boy, Eliot's brought him up well enough, but Irene is... she's my little girl, y'know?"

"I know," Maggie assured her. "But y'know, she's not so little anymore," she reminded the anxious looking mother. "Sometimes I wonder what Sam would've been like as a teenager..." she said then, watching as a look like guilt crossed Sophie's face. "It's okay. _I_ brought him up because I wanted to. I don't cry every time anymore... it's been a long time," she sighed. "But yeah, I wonder, and I think how crazy I would've gone worrying about him even when he was so much older, even now when he'd be a man."

"He would've been a fine man," Sophie said then, dropping her hand down to grip onto Maggie's own. "I know you would've made sure of it."

Maggie smiled gratefully but didn't answer. Had Sam lived to be that man, there was a chance she and Nate would never had split up, or at the very least things would have ended differently. He might never have become the criminal mastermind he was now, never made a romantic connection with Sophie. Irene might not exist and it was highly unlikely she would even know Michael Roberts-Spencer. It was strange how life could go off at such tangents, and all from one event. Of course this was all way to much to think about so early in the morning, and way off topic.

"So, Irene and Michael," said Maggie at length, squeezing Sophie's hand. "She seems to think it's pretty serious. Eliot seemed to agree when I called him last night."

"You called Eliot?" asked the grifter, a hint of a smirk making it's way through the devastation that had previously been written all over her face.

Maggie rolled her eyes. Sophie had been playing around with the idea of matchmaking the two of them for a while now. Nate's ex tried to pretend she didn't notice and/or didn't care, but the truth was she wasn't completely against the idea of getting closer to Eliot. He was a good man, good enough for her, and she could see them making it work if circumstances worked themselves out that way. As it was, they lived just a little too far apart, and he always had Michael to consider, she never, ever wanted to get in the way of that.

"Are you going after the man in our lives, or am I?" she asked the as she got up from the table. "You know if you leave Nate alone to think too much he's just going to look for solace from his friends Jameson and Johnny Walker, and that never ends well."

"Agreed," Sophie sighed, getting up to, just in time to catch the keys Maggie threw into her hands.

"Take my car," she told her. "I'll call work, tell them I need to take the day off. I'll watch over Irene, it's no problem."

"Thank you, Maggie," the grifter smiled gratefully. "I'm so sorry we brought all this to your door, it wasn't fair."

"Hey, it's what family is for," she smiled back, that expression failing slightly as she watched Sophie hurry out the door.

They were her family, more or less, but it would never be quite the same as having her own husband and child. Shaking off the maudlin thoughts, Maggie dialled work, and prepared to make excuses. A little coughing and groaning and she could blame a migraine for her absence she was sure. After all, Eliot had said she was a hell of a grifter when she tried. That thought had her smiling again in an instant, though she wouldn't exactly like to say why.

_To Be Continued..._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So glad to see so many people are still reading this. Sad to say its almost over, just a couple of chapters to go, but I hope you enjoy anyway :)**

_**(For disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)**_

Chapter 7

Lucille had been replaced and redesigned more times than anyone could count. The latest incarnation of Hardison's van / BFF was all kitted out to take the entire family wherever they needed to go. Carrie, Frankie, Ruby, and the twins all had their own special seats, the elder two in back since they were old enough to be trusted now, Ruby in front between her parents, and the twins right behind. However, whilst the youngest three were in their assigned seats today, the older kids had opted to ride with Uncle Eliot in his truck.

The whole joint family was headed out to Maggie's place, convoy style, with Eliot (Frankie and Michael beside him, and Carrie riding in the flat bed) following behind Hardison. Eliot wouldn't have allowed anybody else to travel in such a way, but Carat Hardison was her mama's daughter in style, grace, and aptitude. She loved the wind in her hair and the thrill of a bumpy ride down the highway as much as she adored technology. In these ways she was the perfect Hardison-Parker combo.

"Why can't I ride in back too?" Frankie whined some.

"Because last time we let you, there was an incident," his father told him via comms, with such an emphasis and 'don't mess with dad' tone, that his son immediately dropped the subject.

The kids were not usually allowed to wear comms but since this was technically a job that involved them, the adults relented, just this once. Needless to say the littlest kids were still denied earbuds, lest they suddenly decide to start one of their playfights and ended up pushing the things too far into their ears or swallowing them or something.

"You do not want that thing getting into your brain... or your stomach," Parker had advised them sternly. "So no comms for you three."

In Ruby, Flo, and Gil's defence, they didn't really argue, especially not when Uncle Eliot told them they were to have the very important role in this heist of staying in the van and keeping guard of it when they got to Aunt Maggie's house. They were too young to realise what a get out that was, Eliot wondered how much longer they'd all get away with stuff like that. At seven and ten years old, they were already smart cookies, but then look at their parents and it wasn't altogether surprising.

"This is crazy," said Michael then, shaking his head. "I still can't believe Uncle Nate got this mad about a stupid kiss."

"Uncle Nate got mad because it wasn't just a stupid kiss," Eliot reminded him, eyes flicking to his son and then back to the road. "Right?"

In the back of the truck, Carrie kept quiet, for maybe the first time in her life, listening to see what Michael might say in response. She knew Irene felt way more for Michael than just physical attraction and whilst she was pretty certain he felt the same, she couldn't actually be sure. He never said it, but then guys didn't tend too.

"I don't know," the older boy shrugged his shoulders, and Carrie could imagine it even if she couldn't see. "How do you know if you're in love?"

Frankie started singing along to the radio then, turning his face towards the passenger side window. Michael might've laughed if his own question hadn't been so serious. Poor F-Bomb. When puberty really hit him, life was going to get crazy interesting. Right now, the boy could just be such a kid still. Michael couldn't blame him for wanting to stay that way. His life had sure been simpler before he developed these feelings for Irene.

"Love's not something you can just explain, son," Eliot told him, feeling as awkward as he sounded no doubt.

"I think it is," Parker piped up over the comms. "Love is caring about people, so much that you'd pretty much die for them," she said straight out like Parker still said most things, even now she was older. "With people _in_ love, there's the sex stuff too, obviously…"

"Parker!"

Eliot's growl of her name was almost perfectly in synch with Hardison's yelp of the same.

"What?" she asked, as if she didn't know – maybe she didn't.

"Eeeew," Ruby squirmed in her seat.

"Mom, please don't mention sex," Carrie told her straight out. "You'll blow Frankie's little mind right up... maybe mine too," she added, almost physically wincing.

As grown up as the eldest Hardison child could be, she still didn't need to think about her Mom & Dad doing it, not ever!

"I think what Parker means," Hardison tried then, "Is that being in love is like no other feeling, and yeah, it's about caring and sharing, and it's about, er... physical attraction in a way, but only you know for sure if Irene is the one for you, brah" he told his 'nephew'. "Would you go to the end of the world just for her? Would you do anything, and I mean, _anything_ just to see her smile?"

"Would you die for her?" Eliot asked right out. "Kill for her?"

It was enough to register shock in Michael's eyes when his father looked at him, but only a small amount. He knew well enough the kind of things his father was capable of, the kinds of things he'd done. He knew that back in the day he'd done those things for bad reasons and now he did them for good. No reason was as good as the family he loved like no other, those he felt related to even though only Michael was his blood.

"Yeah," said the teen after a moment, his voice a whisper that he never intended. "Yes, I do love her," he added more forcefully then.

Eliot smiled, and so did Hardison, Parker, and most especially Carrie, though nobody was back there to see.

"For what it's worth, Michael," she said loud enough that the wind flying past her didn't drown her out. "I'm pretty sure she feels exactly the same."

"It doesn't always feel like it when she's slapping my face or throwing things at my head," he replied, though there was a smile on his face and laughter in his voice that even his 'cousin' could make out at this range.

"Like Momma, like daughter," Eliot chuckled, taking the next left turn behind Lucille.

Just a few more miles to go.

* * *

"I know what you're going to say," said Nate sullenly before Sophie had even managed to sit down next to him.

She had caught up to him in the park a few blocks over from Maggie's place. It hadn't taken much figuring out. This hour of the morning all the bars and pubs were closed, so he either had to find a stray convenience store that sold booze or lift a bottle from Maggie's place. A glance at the drinks stand on her way out of her friend's front door told her the latter was true, and then it was just finding a lonely out of the way place where Nate might go to think. The park was often a sanctuary whenever he went wandering. She wondered vaguely if he felt closer to his father there, or maybe Sam, perhaps both. She never asked for fear of the painful past. Right now, Sophie was more worried about the future.

"I doubt that," she replied to his statement, as she sat down on the next swing over, still managing to look like a lady somehow. "You know I can understand you being protective of Irene. I can even understand you getting angry when you found out she had her first real intimate moment with a boy," she said as carefully as she could, "but this? It's beyond a normal father's behaviour…"

"Is it?" asked Nate waving the bottle of Jack in his hand as he did so. "You really think I'm so crazy just because I wanna protect my daughter? My baby girl?" he asked loudly but not really viciously. "_That boy_ might hurt her"

"He's not _that boy_, Nate," she chided. "He's Michael, Eliot's son…"

"Yeah, Eliot's son," her husband echoed, raising the bottle as if in a toast before taking a long swig. "That's a real comfort, Soph, knowing my daughter wants to date the boy we know so well. Who we know has no plans for college or education. Who wants to run away to the army just as soon as he graduates!" he yelled some more, with extra arm waving for good measure as the swing rocked back and forth beneath him.

"I don't call what he wants to do running away," Sophie argued though in a much more reasonable tone than her husband was using. "People do make a career out of the army. It makes men out of boys. It's a noble thing to want to do."

Nate humphed out a noise that scoffed at her words, though he didn't go on to explain himself until he'd taken another long drink.

"And what happens when he gets himself shot or blown to hell, huh?" he asked crossly. "What happens to Irene who's heart-broken and forced to grieve at her age? I don't want that for her!"

"Nobody wants that, Nate," Sophie snapped at him. "Nobody ever would, but injury and death, it's a part of life. We know that better than anyone. We also know about risks taken for the greater good," she impressed upon him, reaching for his shoulder, trying to make him look when he tried to turn away. "Nate, there's a chance that any one of us could end up hurt or dead when we do the jobs we do. Parker on a high ledge, me getting close to a mark, Eliot when he fights. Hardison, you, Tara, Maggie, all of us. We risk ourselves for the greater good. How can you judge Michael for wanting to do the same in his own way?"

Such an impassioned speech, Nate ought to have been impressed, especially when he met his wife's eyes and saw how genuine she was being. The grifter was good, the best in the world, he knew, but when she was being honest and true, that was when she could really break his heart if he let her. The real problem for Nate was that he already knew he was fighting a losing battle. That wouldn't stop him ploughing on regardless of course, fuelled on as he was by the booze in his system, the level of which was rising at an alarming rate as he took another drink from the bottle.

"So he's a saint for wanting to join the forces? Good for him!" he said with some sarcasm. "That doesn't make him so great. Michael Roberts-Spencer, product of a dead mother and a father that sleeps with anything in a skirt."

"Don't you dare," Sophie warned then, getting up fast when Nate staggered to his feet, spinning him around to face her when he tried to shy away again. "Eliot is better than that. He hasn't … dated that way since Michael arrived in our lives, and you know it," she reminded him. "I know he's not a saint, far from it, but then which one of us is? You? Not bloody likely!"

Nate moved to stumble away, drinking deep from his almost empty bottle but Sophie was having none of it.

"Don't you walk away from me," she told him angrily, turning him back around. "I'm not finished!" she said definitely, keeping a hold on him by handfuls of his coat. "Eliot is a good man. He has dedicated his life to keeping us safe, all of us, the team and the children. He's been looking over Irene's shoulder since the day she was born, and he has raised Michael to be a fine young man that respects women."

"That doesn't change the fact that I don't want that kid dating my daughter!" Nate boomed.

"She's _my_ daughter too, in case you've forgotten," Sophie argued. "And right now, our daughter is hurting, probably so is Michael, and everyone else you made us leave behind yesterday!" she continued to yell, shaking the man she loved until some sense appeared in the shadow of this idiot he had become in the space of twenty four hours. "Please, tell me, Nate, what are you really doing this for?"

There was a long pause in which Nate, who was almost doubled over with the force of her pulling at his coat and the effects of the alcohol, did nothing but stare unseeing at the ground beneath his feet. There was a long unbearable pause, until he finally confessed.

"I'm… I'm terrified," he admitted then, tears apparent on his face as he righted himself as best he could and met Sophie's eyes at last.

"What?" she gasped, the frustration that had bubbled inside of her dissipating in a moment, sending tears from her own eyes skidding down her flushed cheeks.

"I'm terrified," he repeated, swallowing hard right after. "Sophie, she's… she's my little girl. You and she are all I really have that are mine to, to protect and… and if I screw up, if I let bad things happen, and I lose either of you… I…"

The words went away. The mastermind, usually so clever and articulate, was now a sobbing mess of a child as Sophie took him into her arms and soothed him as she might a crying child.

Now she understood. This wasn't even really about Irene or Michael, not at all. It was about protecting their family from the worst that might happen. Her talk with Maggie fresh in her mind, Sophie knew this was really about Nate never truly getting over losing Sam, and being so afraid that he might yet lose Irene in some way.

"Hey, listen to me," she whispered, holding him tight, fighting the emotion thick in her throat. "The only way you could lose Irene right now is by acting like you have been. Telling her she can't be with a man that... that she might just love."

Nate knew she was right, of course he did, but the fear wouldn't go away, and he wondered if it ever really would or should. In any case, he couldn't answer right now. He just continued to hold on tight to his wife, letting the bottle drop from his hand, now unnecessary to ease his pain. Sophie would help him make things right somehow. She always did, no matter what. He should have seen that sooner.

_To Be Continued…_


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Last real chapter of this fic. All I've got left is an Epilogue to follow :)**

_**(For disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)**_

Chapter 8

Maggie came out onto the front porch just as soon as she spotted Lucille approaching with Eliot's truck right behind it. The gang were all here, and that gave her hope. Somebody had to talk Nate out of his idiocy and if Sophie hadn't managed it yet, she hoped one of the others might be able to. It had long since stopped being her job, that was for sure! Instead, she had spent this morning trying to comfort Irene, a girl she saw as a kind of niece, and let her know that somehow everything would be okay. Honestly, Maggie thought Irene and Michael would make the cutest couple. Neither was afraid to give their opinion so one would always talk the other down in each of their moments of madness. At the same time, they both had their deeply caring side that meant they could be the protection and comfort each other needed when the worst occurred. They would be a formidable pairing, a true product of the amazing Team Leverage.

"Aunt Maggie!" Flo was first to notice, pointing and waving, and grinning all over her face.

All the kids loved their Aunt Maggie. The younger ones had no idea she used to be Uncle Nate's wife, since it would only confuse them, but they all understood how nice and kind she was. That was all that really mattered. Of course, the older kids, particularly Irene and Carrie, knew there was a little something between Aunt Maggie and Uncle Eliot. Sure, nothing ever really happened, at least not that anyone knew about, but they sure liked each other a whole lot.

"You think they're still here?" asked Michael as the truck pulled up behind Hardison's van and everyone began disembarking.

"If they weren't, Maggie would've called," his Dad shrugged. "It'll be fine, son, don't worry."

Frankie was diving out of the car before anyone else could move, bounding over to his aunt. She wondered at the boy of thirteen being so eager to greet her – he had professed to be too old for hugs when she visited in the Summer. It then became clear the only thing he was really desperate for was the bathroom.

Aunt Maggie laughed as she told him to go right ahead, then greeted Carrie who had expertly flipped herself out of the back of the truck with a flourish. Soon Michael and Eliot were there, followed by Hardison and Parker, their youngest three kids rushing into Aunt Maggie with set of bumps.

"It's nice to see you too, kids," she promised them, patting them all on the head. "Though I had hoped it'd be under better circumstances than this," she sighed, looking then to her fellow adults.

"Nate's being a boob," Parker rolled her eyes. "But it's okay, because we're going to steal Irene back, one way or the other."

"Well, honestly, I don't think she'll take much stealing," the older blonde shook her head. "She's been desperate to escape from the moment she arrived here and…"

Maggie got no further with whatever she might have said when the teen herself appeared at the front door.

"Irene!" Michael didn't even think as he moved towards the porch, and easily caught Irene as she flung herself into his waiting arms.

"Er, where is Nate? And Sophie for that matter?" asked Hardison then, trying not to look directly at what he considered an inappropriate OTT PDA for fear of being blinded.

"They went out for a walk," said Maggie, as Eliot studied her.

"That'll be walk spelt F-I-G-H-T, huh?" he noted.

"What's a fig-hut?"asked Flo in earnest, having spelt out Uncle Eliot's letters too literally in her head.

"Fight, silly!" Ruby told both her and Gil who looked similarly confused. "They went off to have a fight."

"And when that fight was over, they came back," said an English voice suddenly.

The twins and their sister, who had been so fast to run to Aunt Maggie, now ran the same configuration on Aunt Sophie, who the the little ones had somehow convinced themselves they may never see again. The grifter was forced to let go of a shaky-looking Nate's hand when two little torpedoes collided with her legs, followed by Ruby with slightly less force.

"Ooph," she remarked as she hugged them as best she could. "Goodness, what a welcoming committee," she smiled. "And we weren't even gone a whole day!"

Michael and Irene were still by the porch steps, his arms around her more protectively than anything else now. The moment of their reunion seemed to necessitate some intensely deep kissing, which Carrie had tried to photograph with her phone, only for Eliot to tell her no, quite sternly. Now they were just stood together with their arms around each other, fearing the battle that came next.

The tension reached critical limits, as Eliot looked at Nate, and Nate looked at Michael who stared on back. The women and children, plus Hardison, weren't sure where to put their gaze, and certainly didn't like the idea of being the first one to speak. It was Frankie who eventually broke the tension, barrelling out of the front door and yelling that Irene, Nate, and Sophie weren't even in the house.

"Oh," he said suddenly, on realising everyone was present outside, and Irene was in Michael's embrace. "Damn, now we don't get to use our rescue plans," he complained, kicking a stone off the porch in frustration before trudging down the steps to his parents side.

It was enough to get a small smile out of a few people, most of the people, truth be told, though nothing could take away from the fact that there was a situation here that had to be dealt with. Maggie nudged Eliot with her elbow and leaned closer to whisper in his ear.

"He won't talk until you do," she advised, clearly meaning Nate. "Just please, only hit him if you really, _really_ have to?"

Eliot's lips twitched with vague amusement at her choice of words – not don't hit him, but please only do it if you have to. God, he could love that woman sometimes. He also knew she was right about Nate. For all his fancy speeches he could make regarding cons and heists, he did hate so much to admit he was wrong, even if maybe he did realise it now. He and Sophie seemed to be fighting on the same side again, so one of their wills had been broken. He doubted very much it was the grifter who had given in.

"Nate?" said Eliot then as he strolled past Parker and Hardison and all the kids to face the mastermind. "Look, I ain't okay with the stuff you said before you left, and I sure as hell don't like that you tried to kidnap your own daughter just to make a damn point," he explained, continuing fast before he could be interrupted, "but we're all family here, and I think we can both be bigger men. So, Michael and Irene are gonna, I dunno, date or do whatever they want… _within reason_," he said more loudly, shooting a look back over his shoulder at the pair, "but we're not gonna interfere, right?"

"Really? That's how it's gonna be, just because you say so?" asked Nate with clear petulance in his tone and looks. "Who died and made you King Cowboy?"

Eliot clenched his teeth, pulled in a deep breath and let it out, forced himself to remember all those meditation techniques and such that often stopped him killing folks that probably didn't really deserve it.

"No," he said eventually. "Not just 'cause I say so. 'Cause it's the best thing for everybody here," he explained, sweeping an arm back briefly to encompass all the people stood behind him now.

"We just don't get why they can't be together," piped up Parker, no filter as ever. "I mean, they're not blood-related or anything icky, right? They just like kissing and all."

"Mama…" Hardison tried to warn her off getting caught in the middle of the Nate vs. Eliot thing that was happening here, but as ever his wife wasn't all about the listening.

"No, it's not fair," Parker insisted, practically stamping her foot like the teenagers she had borne might. "We finally have a family here, and we're all happy, and just because Michael and Irene want to be closer… it's not fair," she repeated, sticking out her lip.

"Don't shoot the outsider," said Maggie in the brief silence that followed, hands up in mock-surrender, "but she has a point," she agreed with her fellow blonde.

All eyes shifted from her to Nate and then to Irene when she spoke up next.

"Daddy, please," she urged him, slipping out of Michael's arms and going over to her parents. "You can't keep me in a padded box forever just so nothing bad ever happens to me, and wouldn't you rather me be with a guy you know you can trust?" she asked, glancing back over her shoulder at the man she knew now that she loved so much.

"You know I'd never, ever deliberately hurt her, Uncle Nate," Michael swore just the moment he had the older man's focus. "I'd rather die than let that happen."

"I know," Nate answered, bobbing his head slightly in a nod. "I know and it's… it's fine. Well, not fine, not really," he amended honestly, "but I guess I'm just gonna have to learn to live with it."

It was as good as it was going to get for now, everyone was patently aware of it, and nobody, not even Irene, was going to push for more. Of course, no-one didn't include Sophie, who could always be relied upon to go for a little more than she should in any given situation.

"And?" she prompted her husband, an elbow in his ribs. "Apologies?" she tried again when he looked blankly at her, no doubt still foggy in the brain thanks to the alcohol. "You said some awful things, Nate…" she told him with a look that was to be ignored at his peril.

"Er, yeah," he faltered, clearing his throat twice and facing Eliot and Michael with truth in all his looks. "The stuff I said, about the two of you… I'm sorry," he told them honestly. "Sorry to all of you, for making you worry," he said, looking pointedly at Parker a moment, then at Maggie, and finally Irene. "I'm sorry."

There was a moment that passed over the entire assembled group of adults and children, in which all the tension seemed to dissipate. It was like one giant collective breath was expelled, and all was finally right with the world.

"Okay," said Maggie eventually, clapping her hands together. "I don't know about everybody else, but all this drama has made me hungry. Who's staying for lunch?"

"Is Uncle Eliot making it? Because I am so in!" said Carrie definitely, walking in with Maggie.

"Me too!" Frankie agreed. "I'm starved!"

"You always are," Ruby told him, wrinkling up her nose as she followed the others inside.

Parker and Hardison followed along behind with the little ones, and Eliot, Nate, and Sophie fell in at the back. The parents faltered at the door when they realised Michael and Irene were not there with them. They were instead sat down together on the porch steps, looking pretty serious.

"They just need a moment, I'm sure," said Sophie in a soft voice, before speaking more loudly to the kids. "If you're not inside in ten minutes, we will send the twins to jump on you," she warned with a smile as they both looked back at her.

"We'll be there, Mummy," Irene told her with a grin of her own – her mother had never been so glad to see such an expression on her face.

"We have requests," said Maggie as Sophie, Nate, and Eliot finally got inside, most of her attention on the hitter. "Mostly for you to make whatever it is we're eating," she admitted with a smile.

"I think I could be persuaded," he smiled, moving to tie back his hair.

"You need a hand?" she offered, only slightly surprised when the very next thing he did was literally pick up her hand in his own.

"This one'll do fine," he said with a wink, as he pulled her towards the kitchen.

She was laughing like a teenager all the way into the next room.

Outside, where Michael and Irene were supposed to be having some kind of serious talk, neither of them had said a word yet, though both had a head and heart full of things they meant to confess. It was so weird. Up to this point they had never spoken about what kind of relationship they had or wanted to have. There had been kissing, slapping, fights, and flirting. There was clearly passion between them, obviously some kind of loving bond, but putting a label on it and actually moving forward, that wasn't so simple.

"So… were you really going to steal me back from my father?" asked Irene with both amusement and awe in her tone and smile.

"Yeah," Michael agreed, feeling kind of dumb about it somehow. "Honestly? It wasn't my idea exactly, but I did wanna come find you. I also wanted to pretty much kill your Dad for a while there… not literally, but y'know," he shrugged awkwardly.

"I know," she sighed, shuffling closer until his arm went automatically around her shoulders again, holding her close. "This is going to be complicated, you know. I mean, I know everybody is okay with us being closer, but… well, it's not like we're two ordinary people."

"You could never be ordinary, Irene," he told her with a genuine smile.

"You know what I mean," she sighed. "It's just… well, I don't know how things are going to work with us. The whole dating thing? You live right upstairs and you've always been there. I never meant to feel this way about you," she admitted. "Then there's the future. I wanted to travel after high school, and you've always talked about the army. Then there's our parents and…"

The rest of her rambling was cut off abruptly by Michael's lips on hers in a kiss that would take anybody's breath away, even a woman who could talk as fast as Irene! The tingling that went through her body as they kissed was as intense as ever, but somehow there was more to it than just the heated sensation of a really good kiss. She knew now, after realising she might lose Michael from her life, how very much she needed and wanted him in it, how much she loved him. It was never going to be the same as the way she loved her 'cousins', it honestly never had been.

"Irene Charlotte Ford," she heard Michael breathe when the kiss was over. "I think I kinda love you," he confessed with a smile.

"That works out," she sighed almost dreamily. "Because I think I kind of love you too," she admitted.

"That's good," he nodded once, leaning in to rest his forehead against her own. "So, how about we stop worrying about the future, or defining this thing between us, and just start out simple?" he suggested. "You wanna go to Homecoming with me?"

"I really do," she told him, feeling as much a giddy teen as she ever had when they shared another kiss, oblivious to the fact they were being watched from various windows by their assorted family members.

"God bless our one big happy twisted family," Parker declared with a grin.

Somehow, nobody had a way to argue with that sentiment at all.

_To Be Continued..._


	9. Epilogue

**A/N: The last piece of the puzzle on this particular journey. Thak you all for reading, and especially for reviewing :)**

_**(For disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)**_

Epilogue

Eliot was finishing putting snacks onto plates when he looked up and realised Nate had come into the kitchen to refill his coffee. Two weeks since the time that had since been labelled 'the incident' and things had thawed between the hitter and the mastermind to the point of near-normality, and yet there were moments like this that seemed too awkward. Tonight of all nights they could use not fighting. Both fathers had managed to send their kids off to the Homecoming Dance without making a scene, even as Michael fastened the corsage onto Irene's wrist and she thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. To Nate's credit, he had tried his best not to react, Eliot had bitten his tongue when he saw the older man force down a wince.

Now they were faced with each other, with no-one else in the direct vicinity to stop World War 3 breaking out (or would that be 4 after 'the incident', perhaps?). Thankfully, it seemed, neither man was willing to be that childish or dumb tonight.

"You, er, you want a hand with these?" asked Nate, gesturing to the plates and bowls on the counter top.

"Yeah, thanks," Eliot replied graciously, wiping his hands on the dishtowel before picking up his share of the load.

"You guys are missing everything," Parker called as soon as they were close enough; the younger kids were all asleep in bed, she didn't want to yell too loud.

"Not exactly everything, Parker," Sophie told her friend with a smile. "They've only just arrived."

"Hold on just a second here..." Hardison said more to himself than anyone else as he hammered away on the wireless keyboard in his lap.

The next moment the 6-part vid screen flipped again, and in place of one picture there were two. On the right, Carrie was stood by the refreshments table, talking to her English teacher. In Hardison's opinion she looked way too grown up for the age of fifteen, and keeping an eye on her at her first big dance was priority one. On the right side of the screen were the couple that everybody else was interested in, as Michael led Irene out onto the dancefloor and pulled her into his arms.

Nate took his seat beside Sophie, a growl that would usually only be heard from Eliot sounding in his throat. His wife's hand on his thigh made him stop, and she shot him a look. He was going to stay calm whether he liked it or not. They were sharing the couch with Hardison, whilst Parker was slung sideways in an armchair, now with a large plate of Eliot's cookies resting on her middle. Eliot took the other chair, and couldn't help but smile as he watched his son and his niece make eyes at each other at the dance.

Of course, the teens had no proof they were being watched and ought not to have known about it at all. The truth of the matter was, they were both smarter than that.

"How many cameras do you think Uncle Hardison has trained on us right now?" asked Irene, biting her lip to keep from giggling.

"Pretty sure at least a couple are pointed at Carrie," he replied, glancing over her shoulder at his younger cousin. "But yeah, you can bet your ass at least a dozen are on us too."

"I'll bet they're all sitting there watching us, with snacks and drinks. Like we were a family movie or something," she laughed then, unable to help herself. "I honestly don't care, because I'm here with you," she sighed. "This is exactly what I wanted from the start."

Michael had a thought then, one he wished he hadn't had, but now it was there his brain it wouldn't leave.

"Hey, you didn't plan all this did you?" he asked warily. "I mean, Joey; us getting caught; your Dad and everything? You didn't set this up so we ended up at Homecoming together?"

"Michael, how could I?" she countered, without really answering the question.

The young hitter-in-training didn't doubt for a moment that she _could_ do it, if she wanted to. A part of him was still wondering, quite seriously, if she had, but then whatever the truth of it, it couldn't matter now. Irene was right, they were here together, exactly as they ought to be, as they wanted from the start. How they got here and where they were going next was irrelevant for the time being.

"So, you think your Dad will lose his mind if I kiss you?" Michael asked then, a smirk on his lips that was all too much like Eliot's in reality, though Irene never saw it as such.

"I don't know," she smiled up at him, eyes sparkling with fun. "Why don't you try it and find out?" she urged him.

He did not disappoint her, and as the music swelled and the kiss went on, it seemed like a perfect moment, as if maybe they might somehow get a fairytale happy ending after all, at least for tonight. Anything else was part of another story for another day.

The End


End file.
